


Tellin' Lies

by Djinngin



Category: BioShock
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Cabarets, Cohen is a dick as usual, Crossdressing, Dark, Double Motives, Feminization, Gore, M/M, Music, Prositution, Semi-Public Sex, Slow Build, Torture, Violence, Voice Kink, dance, of a sort, this is just covering bases, will update tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-04-12 08:01:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4471532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Djinngin/pseuds/Djinngin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cohen wants something more in his performances and is at his wits end until it comes to him. Unfortunately Kyle gets dragged along for the ride.<br/>---<br/>“So…” Cobb paused, taking a cigarette between his lips and lighting it with a snap of his finger. It still unnerved Kyle, “What’s Melaine’s angle? She ain’t hirin’ you out just to make Cohen look pretty now is she?” </p><p>“Wise old fox” Liza padded up to the shop desk and placed the record she held in front of Cobb. There was a moment of quiet tension and the smug look on his face faltering a little, </p><p>“But I’m just here to have fun” the tone was innocent but if Cobb’s stiffening shoulders had anything to say about it, it wasn’t. She tucked black strands behind her ear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be long, there's going to be lots of lovely man sex and I will probably get dark in some points... but first plot!  
> I've wanted to do an oc involved fic for a while but never had the confidence to do it. If your like me I can be a bit skeptical when an oc is mentioned, however I've read several on here and its spurred me on.  
> Please do comment and kudos, it will help to keep this going.

Despite it being way past three in the morning Rapture was far from quiet. Couples whispered in corners people thought no one could see and men grumbled to themselves as they trudged home or to whatever bar was next. Kyle narrowly missed the shoulder of a not so steady ambling drunk as he tried to keep up with the young boy in front of him, one of Cohen’s many personal assistants. Boys like that would go above and beyond to have the slimmest chance of one day being taught by the flamboyant artist. Kyle thanked to whatever God was up there that he’d been spotted, rather than _groomed_. It still didn’t stop Cohen from attempting though; Kyle had the marks to prove it although he never would. He ran a hand wearily through tangled hair and winced as his little finger caught on a knot, glaring at the back of the boys head in front as if it was his fault.

It really wasn’t and Kyle’s expression softened, even if the boy couldn’t see it still striding in front despite being several inches shorter than Kyle. It wasn’t the kid’s fault it was Cohen’s. He was the reason Kyle had been woken up at this god forsaken hour just for the whim and fancy of his teacher. The kid had pounded on his apartment door for a good five minutes and Kyle had originally thought it was someone next door, an argument between the old couple there didn’t seem to out of the ordinary. Even at this late hour. It wasn’t until his name was mentioned, tentatively called between the last two knocks that he finally groaned, ambling out of bed to see what the hell was going in.

 _“Mister Cohen says he needs you right away. It’s really important”_ The kid couldn’t have been older than fifteen, voice catching on certain words and eyes grey underneath, it was past his bed time for sure, _“Says it’s a breakthrough. Says it could be the beginning of something beautiful, he feels his muse singing to him…”_ The boy sure didn’t look enthusiastic. Merely repeating to the best of his ability what Cohen had said.

Kyle could have said he went along because he knew this wasn’t an optional _‘yes ok, lets go’_. If he didn’t go he’d suffer for it tomorrow and the day after, then the day after that. Cohen didn’t _ask_ politely he told, demanded. If it was for his _muse_ then nothing would stop him. But Kyle was also curious, before he’d crashed on his bed he’d been with Cohen, only a matter of hours ago. Between then and now something had happened. When he’d left Cohen the man had been grumbling,

 _“Rapture is getting stale, where is all the gold! All the magnificence! Keep playing Little Rabbit I didn’t tell you to stop! The audience tires… I tire. I need something more, but what?”_ He continued on every so often instructing Kyle to pick it up or slow it down, work on a flourish. He ignored the nickname and carried on, letting the keys take him into his own head.

What had Cohen found? Why did he need him?

The travel from Kyle’s apartment to Cohen’s theatre was surprisingly short, even with lack of sleep making his effort to keep up even more lax. Yesterday’s papers and various posters and party goers rubbish littered the streets, the cleaners not yet prompted for shift. It felt cold and grey, even with the yellow and red lights of Cohens glowing into even the deepest crevices. A low tune played from somewhere, soft jazz with no voice, echoing around Fort Frolic. This place was never silent.

Kyle tugged at his shift cuffs, dragging them down from his elbows to his wrists the cold making his hairs stand on end. They reached the stairs of the theatre and the boy held open a side door, Kyle thanking him and hurrying into the warmth of the building.

“Mister Cohen’s in the dance hall” the boy spoke clearly, pointing into the reception and ticket area of the theatre to a side arch. The red carpet felt good underneath, softening his steps unlike the hard tiling of the avenue, he really needed some new shoes. The gilded architecture that Kyle had always thought too much created a halo and offset the slightly dimmed lighting of the closed building. Kyle nodded to the boy but didn’t expect him to follow; he’d probably nod off somewhere until prompted again by Cohen’s flighty nature.

He caught himself in a mirror as he made his way down the slightly ramped corridor to the dance hall. No one would question that he’d definitely just been woken up. Eyes rimmed pink underneath, slightly redder on the left where he’d kept rubbing. His hair was a complete bird’s nest on his head, dark blonde tufts and curls splaying this way and that. In an attempt to control it a bit he ran fingers through, running into knots and pulling them out the best he could. The dress shirt he wore was rumpled on the left arm and back from where he’d been asleep, braces slightly askew on his shoulders. Righting them he sighed, it would have to do, and moved onward. 

He needed to stop falling asleep where he fell and get some semblances of routine going, although he knew that would never happen. He wasn’t sure if Cohen would care about his state, the man wore creased shirts and the same make-up for days on end when he was creating, and it seemed only an issue for others to be ill dressed around him. He’d take the verbal blows tonight if they came; waking him up this early in the morning the man had to be pretty out of it himself.

The door creaked open at Kyles push, letting the smell of wood varnish, smoke and lingering ladies perfume fill his nostrils. It was empty apart from Cohen who paced feverously on stage, talking to himself and occasionally leaning against the black piano there. Kyle gave a small smile as he walked through the obstacle course of tables and chairs, the few times he’d played in here he’d really come alive, could never get enough of watching people dance to his music, kiss and fall closer into each other’s arms.

There was few people Cohen would let play in here, and rarely was it used as a ballroom. The shape of the room meant acoustics were perfect for music; a select few musicians had set the place alight with tune until Cohen had changed like the wind again, demanding silence for his muse to think. Ryan had had a few meetings in here obviously none of him privy to. Cohen had always hated when the space wasn’t used for art or beauty but Ryan seemed to have him wrapped around his finger. It was usually after these meetings that Cohen would demand Kyle play, desperate to air the reek of business and corporate gain from his beautiful stage.

“Ah! Kyle! Perfect, perfect!”, Kyle was startled from his thoughts as Cohen jumped from the stage, practically skipping to him a slightly unnerving grin spreading the thickly painted make up on his face. It was thinner in some areas, the sweat of his brow having seeped through and Cohen must have been licking his lips because very little of that garish lipstick was left.

“We have had a breakthrough!” Cohen threw his arms up his voice loud and joyous. Kyle wasn’t sure what he meant by _we_ but he smiled for him. A happy Cohen was much better than the alternative, “During these twilight hours I have been visited by a Goddess! It was if my prayers had been answered! My dreams fulfilled!”

“A G-goddess?” Kyle repeated, wondering how much Cohen had drunk this time, he could definitely smell something alcoholic and very sweet.

“Yes love, but you see it is perfect so deliciously perfect!” The older man continued, pacing and flourishing with turns and swings of his hand in much closer proximity to Kyle than he felt comfortable, “You see, I know this Goddess for she and I have fought an unspoken war for many years. She has been my rival, the siren to my muse. Where I would create heaven for the eyes and ears she provides a carnal canvas for the willing body, so long she has tempted me… but now, now she comes to _me_ …” Cohen continued, further perplexing Kyle,

“Who Mister Cohen?”  Kyle had long ago learnt to deal with Cohen’s bouts of fantasy and theatrics, however his body still blossomed red against his cheeks and neck, the awkwardness never quite went away,

“Madame Melaine! My boy! Proprietor of The Birdcage, finally she has opened her doors to me! Finally I have a new chalice to drink from! I feel like Midas my boy!” Cohen grabbed Kyle by the arms, holding his in place with his wild smile as well as his hold. Cohen first and foremost believed that his works were unrivalled, for him to actively seek another’s form of art was off. Whatever Melaine had offered him Kyle was sure she’d regret it.

“O-oh” Kyle knew the place, a Victoriana themed parlour and cabaret house in the darkest depths of Raptures Sirens Alley. The place was practically carved into the alley, from the outside it looked small, like a three story Victorian era gothic style house that had just been dropped into Rapture, it looked out of place but like it had always been there. The windows were stained glass and always lit up but never could you see inside. You could always find it, but never could you go in unless you knew how. People told stories of the girls in there and the things they did.

He remembered Hector, during one of his particularly bottomless drunken stints, regaling him with tales of Madame Melaine and her entourage of sirens, luring men to addiction and dark desire. Of women who could twist themselves into impossible poses, make a man come just by whispering in his ear. Women that eat fire, drink blood and worship you like their king. Could go for hours without tiring. Kyle had paled when he’d mentioned some of the darker things they provided, services for those who needed pain, who needed humiliation. He couldn’t help but be a little unnerved as to why Hector knew so much.

“Up until this wondrous night Melaine has kept her bitches to her bosom, hoarded them like jewels” Cohen released Kyle from his vice like grip, wringing his hands like it pained him, “But now! We have one of those jewels; she will be the salvation of my muse, the beginning of a new era!” 

“But why do you nee-“

“To play boy!” Cohen cut in, as if he’d expected Kyles question from the beginning, “You still may be developing but I see something in you, I’ve always said it!” He had, Kyle thought, although right now he thought Cohen was pushing it a bit. He was still learning, still trying to keep up with the brutal paces Cohen set. He wanted to meet and surpass that pace, wanted to stop people in their gasps and make them want to cry. But he wasn’t there; did Cohen believe in him that much? He folded his arms close nervously, feeling the weight of Cohen’s demand heavy in his stomach,

“You sure I’m re-“

“Mister Cohen?” An accented voice broke through the semi lit silence behind Cohen, a woman stood in the centre of the dance floor. Cohen turned immediately, a toothy smile brightening his features and left Kyle where he stood.

“Little Dove you are ready?” Cohen glided towards the girl, arms open. Kyle took note of the nickname, worrying his lip. He wandered closer, shyness suddenly overtaking him – he’d never been too great with meeting people, especially of the opposite sex. Furthermore the girl was from The Birdcage, god knows what she could do.

“Kyle, come here – quicker boy! - we have an angel in our midst” Cohen crooned, his hand resting on the girls shoulder. She didn’t seem too fussed to have him swooning, her eyes shifting from Cohen to Kyle.

She couldn’t have been any older than her mid-twenties, maybe a bit older. As he got closer how old she was became even vaguer, she was small, compact, height reaching about the middle of Kyles chest. It made Kyle question whether she was just under developed or incredibly toned. He reddened at the latter as most of the women he knew - or if he was honest - glimpsed in Rapture were vivacious creatures, obsessed with curves and perfect soft skin. Her body seemed to follow the lines expected of a woman, but for those in passing her in a street and perhaps in the right clothes she could easily pass for a young boy. The girl in front of him studied him as much as he was her as Cohen bleated on, gloating none too modestly at his chance of plucking one of Melaine’s sirens from her flock as if the girl were merely an object. He supposed to Cohen she was.    

Kyle shifted weight from one foot to the other and put both hands in his pockets, feeling too idle. Her skin was pale, even by his standards; even by Raptures standards where the sun never reached. Freckles scattered on her shoulders, faint but there and unhindered by hair that was cut in a high bob and jet black. Kyle jumped as Cohen laughed, at what he wasn’t sure but his eyes met the floor as the girls eyes darted from the older man to him. She wearing ivory ballet pumps, blunt ended and scuffed. She was a dancer then Kyle thought wearily; Cohen had never been good with dancers, they were never good enough for him.

He’d been privy to enough _‘sessions’_ to last him more than a lifetime and had experienced what happened when things went wrong. For her sake he hoped it didn’t. It hadn’t happened in a while and Kyle had hoped Cohen had grown disinterested, he didn’t think he could go through anymore evenings of pain and misery for the sake of Cohen’s art. The man was a genius, had done more for Kyle than he could have hoped – but there was something unnerving and dark in the man’s psyche, a side that only came out when he painted. The wet canvases were like glimpses of the iceberg that was unspoken Cohen.

His eyes trailed back to the unusual girl as her gaze fixed on Cohen once more, silently fascinated by what spilled forth from his mouth – tales of he and Madame Melaine from years gone. What she wore Kyle could have called revealing, but if she was from The Birdcage all things considered she was pretty covered up. Her legs were covered by loose fitting black pants tucked at the calves by thin white stockings and that finished at mid waist, pressing against bared flesh that lasted only a few inches up before a black cut off top covered her chest and capped at her shoulders. He noticed pale bandages against her chest before he suddenly realised where he was looking and shot his eyes up to hers. The girl was looking right at him, dark eyes twitched barely but the left side of her mouth pulled up a touch, amused, if Kyle didn’t know the reasoning behind it he wouldn’t have caught it at all.

“Ah! But what are beginnings without introductions and I have deprived you both” Cohen stepped back a little then shifted so he was closer to Kyle, a hand outstretched in front to direct his eyes to the girl in front. As if he hadn’t been doing it already,

“Our lady before us goes by the name of Liza Delacroix” Cohen pronounced the name with a flourish, his French exuding perfectly, “Liza is one of Melaine’s most prized dancers, she comes to us today with a desire to experience and to help spur forward the dreams that these foundations have yearned to create”, The girl nodded once and her rose coloured lips tipped up in a warm smile receiving a beaming expression from Cohen.

“I’m pleased to meet you, miss” Kyle felt a lump catch in his throat as her eyes met his once more, that smile widening. He almost embarrassed himself at how easily he was riled by her. He was suddenly thankful for the solitude of the theatre.

Cohen suddenly slapped his hand against Kyle’s shoulder and the younger man held back a grunt at the force of it, “My dear, this is my protégé, a Mister Kyle Fitzpatrick. Do not let him fool you, behind the plainness lays a talented pianist, the song to your dance!” Kyle rolled his eyes at the backhanded compliment, Cohen never the type to provide one without the other. Liza had watched him the entire time and Kyle was almost sure she was enjoying watching him squirm. With an easy shift she removed her hands from behind her back to clasp them at her front. To Kyles surprise she then bowed slightly in greeting, hair falling from where it had been tucked behind an ear,

“It will be a pleasure working with you Mister Fitzpatrick”, her accent was rich, coiled within a smoky voice that gave no question that Liza was indeed a woman. Surprisingly – and Kyle wasn’t sure why he had even considered it – but her voice didn’t drip with sex, didn’t suggest a scene of debauchery behind every word and certainly didn’t fulfil Hectors fantastical story of women who could break a man with merely their voice. She sounded pretty, impish, friendly and definitely like she smoked. It had the same husk that Cobb’s voice did; reverberating on certain phrases and catching on the very end of a word like the smoke was still trapped there echoing. When Cobb laughed it was throaty, he wondered if Liza’s did the same.

“My, my! Such elegance” Cohen exclaimed, he’d practically fallen in love with this woman Kyle was certain. Some selfish part of him was glad that perhaps he wouldn’t be the centre for all Cohen’s frustrations for at least a couple of days, “But we must move forward, we are here tonight with purpose are we not? We must not waste any more time it is late and I wish to see what you can do!”

Yes it was very late; Kyle grumbled to himself eyes feeling dry with lack of sleep. Annoyingly Liza seemed the perkiest out of the three.

“To the piano with you my little Rabbit!” he startled as Cohen swung his arm towards the stage, piano glistening against the sombre lighting.

“What do you want me to play?” His eyes wide, if it was ballet he didn’t have the first clue about what would complement it. He saw Cohen breathe to speak, to berate him no doubt but Liza cut in, her voice calm and steady,

“You know Liszt? Leibestraum?” she tilted her head with the inquiry. Kyle nodded; of all the songs in the world she’d plucked one he did know – relief spreading through him. It was one Cohen didn’t ask him to play. But it was one he’d played by himself when he needed something slow to wind down, for the notes to seep in and cradle his core.

“Liszt? Rather sombre is it not?” Cohen grumbled, sceptical.

“But is slow song not perfect for a beginning?” Liza turned to the older man slightly with an eyebrow raised, “Trust me Mister Cohen and I will follow you to your dreams end” her voice touched on sultry then, tempting and Kyle didn’t think Cohen would fall for it but after a pause the man seemed to soften. Melaine surely did keep sirens.

“I will entertain this course for now. But Miss Delacroix I’ am a tough man to please. My muse is even the greater stalwart” It was like a hyena tempting a lion, Kyle thought, seeing how close it could get to the meat below and how much the predator was willing to let it take.

“Trust me, Mister Cohen” the girl repeated, turning on her hip to walk towards the dance floor. Cohen watched her go, his animate demeanour briefly faltering from her words before he turned Kyle eyes lighting up as he clapped quickly,

“What are you still going here Fitzpatrick! Piano now!”, Kyle hopped to it, scuffed shoes clacking against the wood of the stairs and stage. Cohen remained standing, body looking like it desperately needed to start pacing. When the music started he probably would. Kyle reached the piano, keys pale and beautiful and calling to his fingers. The stool creaked as he sat from disuse and he let his fingers trace the ivories, feeling the notes of the music before he began. His gaze wandered to the dance floor below and Liza had lowered herself to the wood, she almost looked asleep.

“Begin!” a quick shout from Cohen and Kyle began to play, silently thanking Liza for Leibestraum and not a faster paced song, with his sleep deprived state he’d be tripping over the keys for sure no matter how much Cohen glared at him. The piano was positioned so that the player could look out onto the floor below without causing the beauty of the piano to become boxed. The song he could play without looking at the keys and so he watched Liza, realising why Melaine prized her.

She had risen from her resting position to sit, legs twisted so one foot was tucked under her and the other leg stretched out to her side, toes pointed. Her right arm rose to draw an arch above, hand caressing forwards as if following an invisible being. She lifted to stand with hand trailing after something and body gracefully twisting to follow. As if snapped out of her trance her hand recoiled and was pressed close to her chest, expression pained as she moved back every step delicate and purposeful.

The song lilted and her back arched inward, arms gliding outward and she shifted to pointe twirling several times in fast pace before pulsing and slowing, heels returning to the floor and bringing her into a stretch. Her left leg rose at her side and lifted impossibly high for her to wrap both arms around her calf before releasing and arching her body to the side. Her whole body tensed and she rolled into pointe again, all her weight balanced on those concealed toes. She moved in undulating waves with muscle underneath skin shifting in tantric rhythm. Liza made the dance floor her own moving across it like she had wings. Her expressions were beautiful, flowing from a lovers gaze to the pain and sadness of someone forever alone. Her arms and hands moved like they flowed with silk, leaving trails of glitter in their wake. The poses bordered on impossible, a leg raised too high with spine arched for a foot to meet the back of her head or for her torso to twist like it were made of elastic. A creature of The Birdcage for sure.

He felt the notes soak them both, let him play what he wanted and not care whether Cohen was in the room or not. For once he was at a piano in the theatre without the shadow of the man behind him to scrutinise. Occasionally Liza’s eyes flicked to Kyle and he couldn’t help but gulp, those black eyes making him feel like he was the one she danced for not Cohen. He was impressed that he managed to keep the song going at those moments. He picked up the speed to the song, the part where the lovers meet, and Liza spun across the width of the floor, on pointe once more, feet fast and perfectly balanced and pirouetted in perfect succession with her eyes fixed on Cohen at each turn.

She got close and Kyle was too far away to see the expression that she gave Cohen but he saw the man’s eyes light up.  She arched away suddenly as if caught by a cord and spun to then slide into a split, legs slowly falling in a perfect line to the floor before curling onto her back and arching it high in a move that started as a wave from her thighs and pelvis. Toes touched her crown and arms fell to stroke at the floor above her.

She slowed in almost perfect timing to the end of the song, hips lowering and legs sliding from under her while her hands still caressed the wooden floor. Silence fell and Kyle watched as Liza gazed at Cohen from her resting place, pitch dark hair falling against her cheeks and lips. Cohen rose, eyes still boring into Liza’s before he finally spoke,

“Beautiful…” It was the quietest Kyle had ever heard the man, before he immediately erupted with a wild laugh rushing to crouch in front of Liza who rolled up to lean on a hip, “What angel is this that comes to me! But oh are you human? You can’t be! Melaine has plucked you from some hidden world!” Cohen cupped the girls face and she simply smiled, skin glistening with perspiration. She remained silent, pliant letting Cohen have his moment.

Kyle remained at the piano; feeling slightly dumb by what he’d watched, people had never danced like that here maybe Cohen was onto something. He tapped at the keys without producing notes, watching the change in light as the ivories moved merely playing while his brain desperately begged him to go get some damn sleep. He hadn’t got plans tomorrow, well unless Cohen sent another child to his doorstep, he was going to sleep for so, so long.

“Did I get you up?” Liza’s voice permeated his drifting mind, abruptly,

“P-pardon?” His blurted out as his fingers thumped the keys clumsily, brain remaining stuck on her question. Liza shook her head before grinning,

“Were you in bed?” She moved closer, “Before coming here?” Kyle looked around the room, Cohen nowhere to be found, “You’re looking a little dreamy over there”

“Sorry, yes I was” He relaxed and rubbed at his head hair well and truly out of place, “Where’s Mister Cohen?”

“He left: very important business, many ideas to bring to life” an impish smile tugged at her lips, “He said you should go, he didn’t need you for the rest of today” Liza held a tin mug in her hand and swirled it idly, looking up at him from the dancefloor. The performance had brought a little colour to her cheeks and she wiped at the sweat on her nose, the gesture suddenly making her look human.

“Oh” Kyle mumbled as he rose from the piano, legs feeling heavy beneath him,

“You’re disappointed, lapin?” she sniffed before leaning against the stage and took a swig from the cup hissing after she gulped the faint smell of whiskey piercing the air. Kyle didn’t miss the new twist on Cohen’s beloved nickname for him but it didn’t seem so bad coming from her, the French taking away the sting.

“No, just lacking the energy to articulate anything witty” He moved to sit on the stage, long legs dangling, “Running on fumes never was a favourite pastime of mine” Liza shook her head in gest and offered him the strong smelling alcohol. He took it, needing something to slice through the cotton wool that was invading his brain,

“You play Liszt perfectly” Liza moved to lean on her elbows looking up at Kyle through dark lashes, “It was good to dance for someone with passion” she held the cup at its lip, tilting it side to side against the stage,

“Cohen’s the most passionate man I know” Kyle replied but Liza shook her head pointing to him with a finger raised from her cup,

“I meant _you_ , lapin” she took another sip, “You play like the masters, you love the melody like it were a child you raised” Kyle felt a blush creeping up his neck,

“But you were all but sitting in Cohen’s lap” he interjected, feeling awkward under the attention,

“Because he wanted it” Liza grinned, leaning further into Kyle’s space, “We are entertainers, Mister Fitzpatrick, we give the audience what they want. We perform for each other” Her accent made the words smooth, made Kyle want to hear more. As if she’d heard his mind she spoke again,

“Madame Melaine has gifted Cohen with me to bring a unity between two worlds. She wants the big stage for her girls to prance upon. Cohen wants a new angle, this I can give him” She took a peek at her whiskey; paused at her next gulp, “I just want to have a good time” she smirked and sipped. Kyle kept quiet, wondering where in God’s name this girl had come from,

“Will you show me a good time, Kyle Fitzpatrick?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Silas Cobb ;) lovely thing that he is. He cares really, even if he doesn't like to show it. 
> 
> Poor Kyle actually gets some bloody sleep! 
> 
> I was inspired by an amazing fic by Legendaerie in regards to Silas' radio broadcast. I thought it was a great device to use and so I've included it in this. Please go read their fic its amazing! http://archiveofourown.org/works/2457989?view_adult=true

Kyle groaned as he closed the doors of the theatre behind him, ignoring the fact that it was now clearly early morning. The towering golden clock of Fort Frolic glared down at him as if he needed to know the time. It was nine, nine in the bloody morning. Sweepers were about, clearing up the last remaining evidence of the night before, he side stepped them his bed and the darkness of his apartment sounding like heaven at that moment. Kyle and Liza had remained at the theatre for a little while longer their conversation had wandered into each other’s histories, or rather however much either of them wished to divulge.

Liza was from Belgium - he had discovered – Madame Melaine having picked her up from a run-down whore house as a young girl. Her mother, a drug infested wraith of a women had never taken to parenting and so Liza had ended up following in her dear old ma’s footsteps at the age of eleven. Melaine had stolen her away, called her an angel who deserved diamonds and so she became the daughter the Madame had never had. They traveled to England, China and then India, Liza’s discovery of an overly flexible body played well with the exotic dances there. She studied different dances, Melaine had instructed her to take up Ballet and Latin, but apart from that had encouraged her seek her own medium. She’d promised Kyle, eyes lidded and tempting, that she’d show him some before her time was up.

It was at around that point Kyle had begun to drift, his energy reserves depleted and his head desperate for a pillow. Liza let him finish the whiskey and told him she’d come find him before Cohen did. Locked away inside The Birdcage she had never really experienced Rapture to its fullest. She wanted Kyle to show her everything. Kyle smiled at that; it would give him a change of pace.

He found himself walking past Rapture Records when his mind caught up and didn’t notice Cobb until that familiar voice caught his ear,

“Cohen got you havin’ sleep overs now, kitten?” it was smooth and cocky even for this time in the morning. What confused Kyle even further was why Cobb was even up this early?

“Hilarious” Kyle deadpanned, shouting at himself for taking the bait and stopping. He hadn’t crossed the space between them but knew that Cobb wouldn’t let him leave without mildly irritating him first. Now he’d be tired and pissed, perfect, “I didn’t clock you as the type to get up before noon” Kyle watched the grin on Cobb’s face widen,

“Aw that’s real mean, sugar” he took a drag of his cigarette and spun a set of keys that Kyle only just noticed, about two fingers, “Times money and all that jazz”,

“Gee, beneath this slime ball lies a businessman yet” He was frankly impressed, but he wasn’t going to divulge that to Cobb. He was far too drained to put on airs. But his remark received a husky chuckle from the shop owner and that irked him even more.

“Cohen must have really done a number on you this time” Cobb slid the cigarette from between his lips and released smoke the trails disappearing into the dusty light, “Little too early to be gettin’ your claws out on me, kitten, least let me have a drink first” the man winked and laughed at Kyle’s expression,

“Silas I swear I’l-“

“So what _were_ you doin’ in there? Avoidin’ that little subject like the plague aren’t we sugar” Kyle bit his lip, sighing as he relaxed from his previous attempted threat. Wearily he rubbed at the back of his neck, he’d just feed Cobb’s curiosity and then be gone; otherwise the man would be hounding him for days. He never could help giving in to Silas, watching as that clever grin of his widened that little bit more.

“Madame Melaine came by Cohens last night… after I’d gone” Kyle watched Cobbs smile falter at that,

“No kiddin’?” Kyle nodded and watched as Cobb closed the few feet between them, now only a few inches away, “That old broad from The Birdcage?” he nodded again as Cobb shifted his weight, leaning on one leg, hips tilted and shoulders slightly hunched. Even when taken off guard the man radiated something quietly feral. The way he moved, the way he spoke all hinted towards something more underneath. Cobb’s cigarette rested loosely between his fingers below them and the smoke slithered into Kyle's lungs. He held back a cough, throat scratched for talking so long with Liza.

“Y-yeah. Cohen had me come back; she’d brought a girl with her, Liza” Kyle's eyes darted to the side when Cobb caught the name, suddenly feeling nervous,

“Well check you out! Not even a full night and your already on first name terms. You’re a sly one Fitzy, I’m proud” Cobb shook his head in exaggerated disbelief,

“I am not!” Kyle balked, looking around expecting someone to be listening in,

“Sure you’re not” Cobb drawled lower, following it with another puff of smoke, “So, what’s so important about this broad?”

“She’s a dancer” Kyle sighed and Cobb paused again, a flash of concern crossed his features before it was quickly hidden by indifference,

“We know what Cohen does with dancer’s sugar, you stay well clear y’hear?” Kyle tried not to pay attention to the worry in Cobb’s voice, directed at him no less. He didn’t want to read into that.

Cobb had changed recently; his admiration for Cohen now riddled with suspicion. When Cohen had started getting darker, getting more desperate to create waves with his art; when he’d started breaking so had Cobb. He still hung around, played for Cohen occasionally and sold his records but he wasn’t in his limelight anymore. Cobb was making a name for himself on the airways; somehow he’d managed to creep his own broadcast in amongst the propaganda and Cohen’s abstract litanies, playing music that flowed with class and suggested an exciting time of experimentation.

Kyle would listen in when he had the chance, his radio permanently fixed to that channel more out of absent mindedness than any actual purposefulness, or at least that’s what he told himself. It never promoted a particular start time and so sometimes it would filter in when he wasn’t expecting it. His mood would become brighter and he occasionally would end up humming along. Cobb’s deep voice would vibrate through the tinny radio and the music that followed took him away. More recently he caught himself just wanting to listen to Silas speak.  As much as the man grated on him he couldn’t help but admire his ambition and the music helped him forget all the trials that Cohen put him through.

“It’s not as easy as that and you know it. Besides, she’s good, really good” Kyle explained now avoiding Cobb’s gaze completely,

“He’s already got you playin’ hasn’t he?” Cobb sighed rubbing at his forehead, dark blonde curls becoming unsettled.

“Why do you care?” Kyle spat, he really needed sleep.

“You weren’t the one draggin’ you out the goddamn theatre tryin’ ta convince you those good folks were alive!” Cobb was chewing on his cigarette now, “It’s bad enough that old crows taken a likin’ to you, don’t make it easier for him by sitting in his damn lap” Kyle bit his tongue as his blood ran cold, holding back a litany of curses between what he really wanted to say. Cobb hadn’t been there, hadn’t seen what Liza could do. Hadn’t seen how Cohen had reacted. Cobb seemed to be studying him, those dark eyes following the lines of his face, the greying circles that Kyle was more than certain he was sporting. The older man sighed, almost in a defeated fashion although he knew Silas would never admit that.

“You look beat kid and I wasted enough of your time as it is…” Cobb gave one last smile, an honest one, and squeezed Kyle's shoulder. He tried to ignore the heat that spread from there, “Thanks for the information sugar, you be careful y'hear?”

The older man nodded a goodbye as he turned, long, slightly bowed legs striding back to the record store. Kyle watched him before giving a firm huff; he was no more pissed than he was perplexed.

They hadn’t spoken about _that_ night since it had happened; Kyle had downed half a bottle of bourbon if he remembered correctly and then promptly passed out once Cobb had removed him from the auditorium and theatre. When he’d awoken Cobb hadn’t been there and he’d decided to put the event to darker corners of his mind. The next time he’d met Cobb it had just been their usual banter. Those people had survived, he remembered, he’d seen them about a month later down at the arcade. The fear in their eyes had made his blood run cold, he had done that.

If Cobb had mentioned it now then he had to be concerned. But Liza had told Cohen to trust her, so in a way Kyle had to trust her to. Cohen seemed to be enamoured with her, would that change the second she missed a step or couldn’t keep up? Would the watchful gaze of Melaine secure Liza’s safety? He couldn’t go through that again, he didn’t kill people.

The clock chimed nine thirty and Kyle groaned, he needed to sleep, needed blissful unconsciousness to put some space between him and the events of the much too early morning. Cobb was nowhere to be seen but the sign in the records window said open now and more people had begun to mill about. This time he didn’t pause and made his way home.

The pianist crashed as soon as he barged through the front door flopping onto the worn sofa of his apartment. Voices were making a busy racket from next door and he heard the familiar morning speech of Andrew Ryan on the old couple’s radio in the apartment across. A faint smell of coffee made his mouth water but he just couldn’t find the energy to make his own. Not now, moving was the furthest thing from his mind. The springs of his couch squeaking were the last things he heard before he was cradled by dreamless sleep.

Kyle drifted; sleep still desperately trying to keep him in its hold. He heard a radio again, piano music mixed with a lady singing and strings. It made him sink deeper. He could smell smoke, his heart giving one large thump as he thought maybe his apartment was on fire. No, it was the wrong type of smoke, belonging to cigarettes. He frowned with eyes still closed and shifted feet and calves to roll over the arm of the sofa. Was Cobb in his apartment?

“Allo, allo? Mister Fitzpatrick” A soft voice had Kyle’s eyes snapping open as he felt the creak of the sofa arm he was resting on and was immediately greeted with two dark eyes above his own but upside down. He jumped, body tensing as he recognised the girl above him through a still sleepy haze,

“L-Liza?” his voice rasped,

“Oui!” she chirped and gave him a grin before her eyes travelled upwards to his torso,

“Oh cherie, you’re sure to catch a cold with your belly out like that” she gave a throaty chuckle as Kyle roughly shoved his wrinkled shirt over his stomach, reddening,

“What are you- how did you get in here?” He rubbed at his eyes, stretching and fighting to assemble himself against the protesting furniture,

“A little lapin left his door unlocked” She rocked on the heels of her hands, tutting, “so careless”

Kyle groaned he always locked his door. He must have really been out of it when he got back,

“but at least you got your sleep” Liza moved from her hovering to slink down and sit on the floor, hands clasped about loosely bent knees as she watched him seemingly entertained by his sluggish movements.

“You know where I live?” He tried to shift up to sit before his arms and head protested,

“Cohen talks, a lot” Liza joked before her eyes lit up as if remembering something,

“I brought coffee… I shall make you coffee!” Liza quickly got to her feet again, padding barefoot across to a corner of the room where she’d apparently deposited her things. She came back up with a battered olive green thermos, winking at him before crossing the small space of his apartment to the plain kitchenette. Lazily searching through cupboards for sugar and cups, Kyle watched her blearily not quite up to processing speed as she quietly made herself at home. She hummed a song Kyle didn’t recognise and clinked two cups together as she plucked them from a high shelf. Kyle was surprised she could reach. She rummaged a moment more before stepping back, hands on her hips,

“No sugar?” She flicked a look back to Kyle who shook his head. Recently he wasn’t really in his apartment enough during the day to warrant stocking his shelves. Liza shrugged nonplussed and closed the cupboard she’d paused at turning to click open the thermos, “Black it is then, oui?”

“Oui- er yes” Liza raised her eyebrows comically high before laughing, the smell of strong coffee cradling the room as she poured into the cups. At that moment in time Kyle could have had it cold for all it mattered, anything to remove the fog around his eyes. She placed the thermos on the counter with a light _thunk_ before returning to the couch, cups in hand. Kyle shifted his still sprawled legs to give Liza room, thanking her as she handed over one of the steaming cups. The smell filled his lungs and he began to feel steadier. The thermos had settled the coffee to a readily drinkable temperature and he sipped carefully, the strong taste bursting over his tongue before soothing the dry confines of his throat. It was different to the freeze dried stuff he had, fuller and tasting faintly of chocolate he pondered. He felt the warmth spread through his chest,

“Good, no?” Kyle nodded and Liza took a sip of her own, eyes briefly closing and pursing her lips before continuing,

“Madame Melaine’s expensive stash, keep this between us lapin” Liza winked and tapped her nose and Kyle nodded again, still getting up to speed. They drank in companionable silence, Kyle resting the base of his mug against his knee thigh pressed close to his chest. Liza had turned to put both feet on the dark couch and pressed a pale foot lightly against Kyle’s thigh and whether purposeful or not Kyle found he didn’t mind. Her clothes were looser than before, Kyle noted. A linen shirt that hung loosely on her shoulders baring the same milky skin as before but now he noticed a smattering of pale freckles. Her skin seemed to glow in the dusty orange yellow light of his apartment. She wore loose fitting high-waisted dark brown slacks; the ends were rolled up to hang against thin ankles.

His eyes wandered the floor to find her shoes placed neatly against a worn leather bag, brogues not dissimilar to his but much smaller. She wore the barest of makeup her dark eyelashes needing little to be striking. Her hair was neatly parted; strands tucked behind her ear made her look almost elfin. Kyle felt bedraggled next to her, shirt even more wrinkled than before and trousers riding low on his hips where he’d shifted in his sleep. He felt tufts of hair tickle at his forehead and briefly ran a hand through the stubborn thicket, sweeping it back and away from his face.

“What time is it?” Kyle blurted out suddenly feeling sheepish at breaking the calm. Liza’s eyes darted to him from the brim of her cup and tucked a couple of rogue strands behind her left ear,

“Seven” she took a sip,

“p.m.” she added and Kyle sighed, he was grateful he’d gotten a decent amount of sleep. Although now his sleeping pattern was completely messed up,

“I think it time you followed through on your promise, Mister Fitzpatrick” a mischievous expression crossing her feature. She shook her head at Kyle’s clueless appearance,

“To show me a good time?” she poked him with her toes, “Come on, lapin, I have been deprived long enough and Cohen will soon have us back in that box again to dance to his tune sooner than you know it” She slung her feet over to stand, grabbing Kyle's drained cup from him and holding them both while she came in close, “I’m just dying to see what your Fort Frolic has to offer” she turned to deposit the mugs. Kyle managed to stand, body turning to follow where Liza had stood, rubbing his neck,

“How long have you been in Rapture?” Kyle queried,

“Well now… six years?” Liza tapped her index finger to her cheek, leaning against the kitchen counter in thought, “Aha, it must be. I still have the ticket from the day we boarded” Liza smiled fondly,

“And you’ve never been to Fort Frolic?” Kyle replied in disbelief and Liza shook her head,

“Once, when we first arrived. But Melaine is very strict about where we go and what we do. We are her sirens as people say, heard, maybe spoken about, never seen” Liza’s smile dropped, her eyes focusing on a non-specific patch of flooring, “If we gallivant around for everyone to see it ruins the mystique, no?”

“But she’s letting you now?” Kyle continued disliking the drop of Liza’s smile, the energy somehow draining from the room. She moved her focus to Kyle as he spoke her smile reigniting again,

“I’m out on good behaviour” She tapped her nose, “and with you to chaperone me I ‘am but a _skirt_ on the arm of a lucky man” She padded over to him, hips swaying slightly “A bit different to a gaggle of birds flaunting their wears to lucky passers-by, no?”

She stopped close, inches away and draped an arm over Kyles shoulder. His breath hitched in surprise as she pulled him closer, “Won’t it be fun? We’ll conjure wild stories to feed to the foolish and willing of Rapture. To pull at the heart strings of old dears and get the virgins hot under their collar. We can make them think whatever we want lapin” Liza gave a sultry chuckle as she released him, Kyle feeling like he’d come up for air. Is this what she did back at The Birdcage, become a different woman for every client?

He watched her move away to slip on her shoes, watching the slight curves beneath her loose fitting clothes as she arched over. It scared him that the girl was so changeable, lured him into a false security, made him forget he was dealing with a creature that would fulfill the darkest of people’s desires. No matter how many times she did it he didn’t think he’d ever be prepared. Running a wayward hand down his torso he felt the wrinkles and creases of his shirt and grimaced, he’d been wearing the same clothing for going on two days now.

“Can I at least change my shirt first?” He mumbled, trying not to sound whiny. Liza returned to a stand and rolled her heel against the floor stretching leather. She gave him a quick scan before sighing dramatically,

“I suppose! We can’t have the dames thinking your bad news” she tapped her foot once more before leaning against the wall. Kyle stared dumbly at her for a minute before moving to check his dresser finding an off white button down he’d bought recently. It didn’t take much these days for his clothes to meet their maker; it wasn’t just him who was being worked to the bone. He grabbed an under vest with it and began to pull at his braces. He’d leave the trousers; it would take too long to find a pair that wasn’t flecked with some of Cohen's paint or stinking of the smoke and perfume that seemed to exude from the theatre.

He paused on the button against his sternum and looked up, realising Liza was still in the room. She remained against the wall, a window on either side darkening her features a little. There was a short silence between them before Kyle spoke:

“You’re not going to move are you?” he fiddled with the button in his fingers,

“Non” Liza replied, looking mildly entertained, “I’ve seen it all before sugar, and more” The pet name reminded him of Cobb and he felt even more odd, hearing his voice where Liza’s should be. She seemed to notice the slight nervousness in his features and licked her lips suggestively,

“You can go slow if you want lapin, I wouldn’t mind a show” He huffed at that receiving a light giggle from Liza and forgetting about Cobb.

He shucked off his shirt and vest, receiving an approving smirk and whistle as he stretched to get the new undershirt over his head. Liza bent to pluck a lipstick and compact mirror from her bag, busying herself with applying the dark red wax as Kyle finished dressing. She rounded him to reach the door, tiny feet clicking against the wooden boards and making him fumble with his braces. He grabbed his favourite waistcoat and his battered wallet before meeting her at the door and locking it behind them. He wasn’t quite sure at what point he’d woken up or when he’d agreed to escort Liza through Fort Frolic but the barely contained excitement on her face as she hopped down the metal stairs of the building filled him with a giddiness he hadn’t felt in a while. Liza’s eagerness seemed contagious.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've taken a little creative license with this chapter in so much that there isn't an awful lot revealed about Kyle's past in the game. Furthermore I've added some bits to Fort Frolic... because I couldn't resist. Hope this sits well with people.

“It’s so bright!” Liza gasped as they made it to the main plaza of Fort Frolic, she’d twisted and turned as they’d explored the narrow avenues – people narrowly avoiding a hand in the face or the girl herself barrelling into them. Kyle attempted to apologise as she wandered further into the crowds of people – it didn’t take much for the avenues to fill up at this time of the night. The smaller boutiques lured those enticed by the quirky and unusual while the galleries and smaller intimate restaurants provided visuals and smells that personified the bourgeoisie aura of the place.

Fort Frolic at night was almost as bewildering to him as it was spectacular for Liza. He rarely spent a whole night out within it, more likely to be at Cohens or Sinclair’s with Hector, often joined by Martin and Cobb in the later hours. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy the wild environment that was Fort Frolic but the blaring music and bright lights would never compare to the world he held when he played at Cohens.

He sheepishly nodded to another bewildered couple before catching up to Liza who had stopped in the centre of the plaza, twirling slowly, her feet balanced on the outer side of her shoe,

“Everything is made of gold…” she gazed upwards to the huge chandelier high above, the crystal  and lights made her eyes glitter, “I would be late to work every day if I lived here” Kyle sidled up to her, hands deep in his pockets just enjoying the fascination on Liza’s face,

“You get used to it” Kyle mumbled, following her line of sight. The chandelier drawing attention from the tiers high above as well,

“Oh no, I don’t think I ever could…” she lowered her eyes to Kyle, shaking her head “You’ll have to excuse me, I’m quite the magpie” a contented sigh exited her red lips and she turned bodily to face the sandy haired man before her, “caught your breath?” she grinned,

“Ha ha” Kyle replied dryly, “Me and the rest of Rapture yes. You’re not as graceful in the streets as you are on the dancefloor”   

“Ooh!” Liza gasped, “Those are fighting words Mister Fitzpatrick” she reached to hook an arm around his, “I’m sorry I won’t run off anymore, I think I saw a casino over there” she pointed in a haphazard direction that Kyle could only guess was near Sir Prize.

“You gamble?” He let himself be led, even though he was pretty sure she didn’t know where she was going. He subtly pulled her in the right direction,

“No” an impish expression on her face, “I love to cheat and I’m a terrible loser!” she laughed, clutching tighter onto Kyles arm.

The commotion coming from Sir Prize when they got closer suggested a packed floor however when they squeezed their way through the crowds Liza managed to make a bee line to a free machine pretty easily. She held onto its sides like it were made of glass, eyes wide as they roamed the chrome and metal before sliding in a coin. Kyle leaned against the marble column and watched her paw over the gaudy machine wondering if she knew what to do.

“You pull the lever” Kyle offered after a moment, receiving a withering look from Liza as she yanked at the arm eyes still on him. He averted his gaze taking in the loud, electric environment around them. There was a roulette table in the centre, crowded by men in expensive suits a woman latched onto each and every one. Cigar and cigarette smoke made the place hazy, creating an intimate atmosphere. He heard the machine begin to decide its fate and Liza squeaked as the passing icons slowed behind the glass,

“yes, yes!... oooh, non, non, non! ne vous avisez pas!” she thumped the metal front as the last wheel stopped, signalling a loss,

“Merde…” she grumbled, rummaging to find another coin, “one more go” Kyle raised an eyebrow. He’d heard that phrase from Hector as well. Usually several times before the guy would call it a night, penniless till his next commission. He always preferred to be the bystander, having way too little to his name to even step into an addiction of any kind, especially gambling. Liza pulled at the bar again practically vibrating on her heels as she watched the symbols fly by,

“Come on, come on!” Kyle grinned as he saw her knuckles whiten, how could she get so wound up about one slot machine? It felt like the machine was taking its time, fearing the wrath of the tiny Belgian. It only took until the second result to see she’d lost again and Liza practically growled,

“Je crache sur vos enfants!” she kicked at the machine sulkily as Kyle spotted a curious attendant wander over, most likely making sure the woman hadn’t dented the machine too much. He frowned as he noticed the man’s eyebrows rise as he heard Liza grumble in French, a lewd grin spreading across yellow teeth,

“Wow mack, your one lucky fella, this girls got fire!” Kyle stiffened as he approached, Liza turning to spot the man only a few feet away, “Where’d you find a skirt like this?” leering as if Liza wasn’t aware he was doing it. He opened his mouth to tell the guy where to go when he felt Liza grab onto his arm again, pulling him close. He felt her breath close to his ear close enough to kiss him, small body slotting against his before speaking huskily to the man before them,

“I’m his sister…” The man froze dumbly at that, as did Kyle before being dragged along, hearing Liza snickering to herself. They exited the casino, Kyle thankful for the cooler air currents in the plaza. He felt Liza loosen her grip and float off to a nearby vendor, coming back shortly with a glass bottle of root beer, lips shiny from her first swig.

“You ok lapin?” her head tilted, curious,

“That was… odd” Kyle rubbed at the back of his neck, her nails tapped against the bottle,

“Gets them every time” she grinned, sucking at the bottle again, “You try next time” Kyle recoiled and his hand twitched in his hair,

“Wha? Not on your life!” He exclaimed, going red. Liza barked a laugh,

“Oh come on! Don’t you want to mess with someone’s head?” She spun on the spot before reaching out to offer Kyle the bottle, he took it, wiping at the remnants of lipstick at the lip,

“Cohen does that enough to me already” he took a sip, watching as Liza’s expression softened. He felt a pull in his chest at the same time as his stomach protested for food, “Y’hungry?” she smiled at him, nodding and taking back the bottle,

“Lead the way, monsieur”

They’d quickly found a street vendor back in the Avenues, selling standard American corn dogs but Liza’s eyes had lit up, covering hers with mustard and holding it like it were the most expensive food in the world. Kyle hadn’t realised how hungry he was and it was amazing just to have something in his stomach. Liza licked at the dripping mustard as she perched on a gilded metal railing, Kyle leaning next to her. They people watched, Liza making him cough on a bite as she queried how many of them Kyle thought were actually a hundred percent natural, commenting that a woman’s breasts shouldn’t be so solid when she walked. Steinman’s magical procedures were growing ever popular.   

“Do your parents live in Rapture?” Liza asked out of the blue, Kyle had to repeat it in his head to make sure he’d actually heard it right. He shook his head,

“They did, but they’re dead”

“Oh, I stepped in that one” Liza blushed awkwardly; it was the first time he’d seen her do that. Kyle shook his head,

“It’s ok; it was a while back now. Ma was always sickly, I think she just got bored of being ill all the time” Kyle huffed a quick laugh, Liza had an odd look on her face, “I went round one day and she was in bed, just looked asleep, all peaceful… so it didn’t really clock straight away”

“She was a good lady?” Liza arched further over, hair swaying at the movement,

“Yeah, she was. She played violin and piano, because she couldn’t get about much. I would sit and listen and it would always look like her fingers were made of magic. She could play anything” Kyle smiled fondly. He hadn’t thought about his mother in years, too busy growing up,  

“Your father?” Liza sucked on the left over stick of her corn dog,

“Just got up and left one day, he may as well be dead” Kyle’s smile faltered in remembrance and he  took another bite, watched a couple wander past, totally captured by each other’s gaze,

“Fathers are fuckers” Liza spat, there was history there Kyle pondered quickly trying to ignore his own unhappy past,

“Fathers are fuckers” He repeated, Liza kicking him softly with her foot,

“Si vulgaire!” she gasped, “My dainty ears, oh Mister Fitzpatrick I think I may faint!” She drew a hand up to her forehead and fell backwards. Kyle yelped and reached over the railing to grab her before she clutched onto the bars, hair tumbling over her face. She grinned up at Kyle who was bent awkwardly over the railing, arm stretched across her chest and hand wrapped over her right shoulder and faces dangerously close. Their eyes met and Kyle gulped.

“You have mustard on your nose” Kyle blurted out, panicking for something to say. Liza pursed her lips before she snorted flipping back up quickly, landing with her hair slightly dishevelled. She rubbed at her nose before sucking on the skin of her hand.

“Gone?” she asked, Kyle nodded receiving a wide grin,

“I have work soon, how about one more stop before we part hmm?” Liza sounded almost reserved.

“Work?” Kyle frowned, wasn’t she working for Cohen now?

“Oui” She nodded, turning fully to face him, hands clasped behind her back, “Last night was a…” her wrists twisted as if motioning the cogs of thought “test run… I have my clients tonight and then I’ am Cohen’s for as long as he needs me”.

Liza was a creature of The Birdcage, Kyle had all but forgotten. The girl in front of him, ageless, angelic, did things he couldn’t even imagine. What did she do? Was she dangerous in there? Was she powerful? Did the men who visited her hurt her? Or did she hurt them? He suddenly felt protective. He hadn’t known her for more than a few hours but he didn’t want her to do those things. It was her last night, she’d said, at least for a while. He took in a gulp of air, suddenly feeling constricted.

“I hear Billy Holiday…” Liza’s brow furrowed with a curious frown, looking around and spinning on her heel. Kyle paused, taking in all the sound around them but too much was going on to separate the music from the chatter and advertisements blasting over the channels. He almost missed it as Liza darted off in pursuit of the sound,

“W-woah! Liza wait up!” Kyle weaved through the pockets of people, catching sight of Liza just as she rounded a corner, “Damn it!”

When he reached the steps Liza had taken his eyes zeroed in on the one place he hoped she hadn’t gone into, Rapture Records. However, just like Liza had said, Kyle heard the unique music of Holiday filtering through the airways towards him. It had to be past ten, why was Cobb still open?

He wearily made his way to the shop doors, noticing the sign on the glass said closed although the door was slightly ajar. He spied Liza inside, taking in the space and sighed at the wonderment on her features. He entered the store just as he noticed Cobb emerging from the back rooms, his eyes widened comically as he noticed the girl humming along to Holiday and peeking at the albums displayed about the shop,

“Hey, hey, hey! Did you not see the sign? We’re closed” Cobb strode over to Liza, practically towering over her small frame,

“What sign?” she replied, looking about her,

“I’ll take that as a no. Look, just-” Cobb rubbed at his eyes, looking tired before he took sight of Kyle, back still leaning against the shop doors, “Oh, hey kitten” that lazy smile was back and Kyle inwardly groaned,

“Kitten?” Liza scrunched her nose and followed Cobb’s line of sight, clocking Kyle,

“Oh! Kyle, I’m sorry I did it again didn’t I” She clutched the album she currently held to her chest, “Its Holiday, she just does something to me, I had to-“

“It’s okay Liza” Kyle crossed the store to Liza, wondering why he was willingly putting himself within arms reach of Cobb.

 “Liza?” Cobb shifted, folding his arms, “This the broad you were talkin’ about then, sugar?”

“Broad? You know this guy?” Liza took in Cobb’s appearance suspiciously, eyes narrowing,

“Yes, unfortunately” He recoiled at the sudden assault of questions and rolled his eyes when Cobb feigned a hurt expression,

“Ouch” Cobb clutched a hand to his heart, said hand then shifting to offer a hand shake “Silas Cobb, ma’am”

“Liza Delacroix” Liza took Cobb’s hand, hers about half his size,

“Welcome Miss Liza, I hope Kyle here’s not been causin’ you trouble” Cobb glanced to Kyle, receiving a withering look,

“Hmmm… well there was that fiasco at the casino, right Kyle?” Liza fixed him with a mischievous grin and Kyle reddened. Cobb looked like he’d just stumbled upon gold, his teeth adding a wolfish nature to his smile,

“You went to a casino? And here I thought you were a good boy, sugar” Cobb tutted and Liza followed suit, earning a raised eyebrow from the taller man.

“You’re both as bad as each other” Kyle groaned, how had he not noticed the similarities until now?

The record stopped and filled the room with silence. Cobb gave one last sultry look Kyle’s way before he sidled over to the record player, flipping the ebony disc and placing the pin. Liza swooned as Holiday returned, twirling away to dance with the record she currently held. Kyle watched, enjoying the lackadaisical motions a stark difference to the serious, precise moves of the night before,

“Kitten here says you’re dancin’ for Cohen” Cobb returned to behind the counter, his usual perch when Kyle occasionally came in. Liza carried on her casual dance,

“Correct”

“He also told me you’re from The Birdcage” Liza flicked her gaze briefly to Kyle, his stance stiffened,

“Also correct”

“So…” Cobb paused, taking a cigarette between his lips and lighting it with a snap of his finger. It still unnerved Kyle, “What’s Melaine’s angle? She ain’t hirin’ you out just to make Cohen look pretty now is she?”

“Silas, really?” Kyle growled, the accusation making him clench his fists, he knew Cobb could be a paranoid bastard underneath all the slick attitude but this time he didn’t have a leg to stand on. Liza stopped in her movements and chuckled like it were a joke,

“Wise old fox” Liza padded up to the shop desk and placed the record she held in front of Cobb. There was a moment of quiet tension and the smug look on his face faltering a little,

“But I’m just here to have fun” the tone was innocent but if Cobb’s stiffening shoulders had anything to say about it, it wasn’t. She tucked black strands behind her ear,

“We’re going to be practising most nights, you should join us, malin” Cobb huffed at that, rising from his elbows to his full height. There was something going on that Kyle couldn’t see, it took a lot to ruffle Cobb’s feathers and even though Liza had perhaps just grazed them, she’d done more in the last few moments than most people hadn’t even got close to in years. 

She turned, a warm expression sent in Kyle’s direction,

“Thank you for tonight, Mister Fitzpatrick, but I must be on my way” she reached him quickly, a hand squeezing his shoulder, “Look after my thermos will you? till tomorrow night. Cohen wants us at the auditorium again”. She rubbed her thumb against his bicep before releasing,

“It was nice meeting you Mr. Cobb. I hope to see you soon” the door clicked close, her figure disappearing into the bustling night. There was silence between the two men, the record having paused between songs. Kyle shifted his eyes to where Cobb still stood at his desk, thumb and finger pressed close to his lip as he sucked in a long drag of his cigarette. The man greeted Kyles stare with a quick raise of his brow before crushing the remaining paper and tobacco against the glass top. Letting the smoke dance out of his mouth.  

“She’s going to ruin you, sugar”


	4. Chapter 4

Kyle didn’t respond but tightened his eyes and brow a fraction, unsure of what the older man had meant by that. Nothing was straight forward with Cobb. Silence continued and the record began to wobble, coming to the end of its reel. Cobb sniffed quickly before wandering over, flipping up the pin and switching discs. Kyle watched him, telling himself that he should probably go. Cobb never stayed quiet for long and there was a tense feeling in the air that made him uncomfortable. He hadn’t seen the look Liza had given Cobb but he’d definitely noticed how he’d reacted. What had gotten him so suspicious of Liza, of Melaine? Cobb knew something he didn’t, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

The music began as Cobb meandered off into the back, pin already in place and rolling. It was a low, lounge jazz that was meant to be background noise. Kyle moved to pick up the record Liza had deposited on the counter, running his fingers across the sharp edges of the vinyl sleeve: one of Cohen’s odd, voiceless pieces. The sound of Cobb shifting things in the back caught his attention and he put the record down, pushing down against the glass cabinet top of the desk. He should go, he repeated to himself a second time; which confirmed that he definitely wasn’t.

He found Cobb in his office, rummaging through a desk before he pulled out a tangled array of wires inspecting the ends till he appeared to come across the one he needed. He gave a quick glance at Kyle as he stopped at the doorway, another cigarette in his mouth,

“Though you’d be fluttering on after Sheba” he muttered, a slight lisp formed around the stick in his mouth,

“Anybody would think you were jealous” Kyle picked at the wood grain of the door frame, Cobb snorted,

“I ain’t” he stood and reached up to a high shelf, finding a box with several pieces of battered electrical equipment filling it to the brim. The reach pulled Cobb’s narrow waist taut, shirt twisted and pulled tight against skin. Kyles jaw tightened, he didn’t know why everything Cobb did made him feel like he was stepping on glass. Bursts of butterflies in his chest as he narrowly avoided any type of analysis. Cobb began riffling through the crate oblivious to Kyles internal flapping. Several pieces of equipment clattering to the table. He cursed as a glass valve clinked to the floor,

“Then what was _that_?” Kyle shifted folding his arms across his mid chest, hands rolling up sleeves as he did. The butterflies subsided as he cradled his chest,

“Just protecting your interests, sugar” Cobb turned around to lean back against the desk, fiddling with the valve that had escaped, checking the connectors,

“My interests?” Kyle raised an eyebrow, confused, “Why’re they-“

“Helps my conscience, sugar, let’s keep it at that” the grin didn’t meet his eyes like usual and he turned again. The room was quiet again and Kyle watched as Cobb began picking up records from an old folder on the shelf, sliding them some part way out to read their labels before letting them fall back in, 

“…Liza’s right, you should come watch sometime” Kyle recoiled at his brain as he said the words, catching the surprised expression that came from Cobb, “You… I don’t really see you there anymore” he looked to the floor before he heard the shift and creak of the desk, Cobb’s feet suddenly in his vision. He hadn’t noticed until now but Cobb was barefoot, toes dusty from the wooden floor, slender like everything about him.

“Don’t think Cohen would appreciated me sneakin’ in on his little private sessions” His eyes snapped up to see Cobb only inches away from his face, an amused expression gracing his features as he leant an elbow against the doorframe. His broad back shadowed the light from Kyle and left their expressions dimmed but the glint that caught in Cobb’s eyes captivated him. Kyle hoped the bewildered look in his own stare hadn’t been too obvious,

“He’s not always there; he’s been wandering off more recently” Kyle offered nervously, “I guess now even more so” Cobb looked like he was enjoying Kyle’s anxiousness yet again, “y’know with Melaine being about”

“Hmm… Maybe I will then” Cobb drawled, “Is this you apoligisin’ for that broad breakin’ and entering? Cus you’re being awful sweet right now, not like you kitten”

“What?” he barked out, “N-no one’s apologising, Silas, the damn door was open,” Kyle shifted away from the doorframe, his cheeks reddening slightly, feeling like Cobb was looking right through him, “Was your fault you got disturbed playing your music so bloody loud! That’s what got Liza in here” Cobb’s stare unnerved him and he felt pushed to continue, “C’mon, what’s your problem with her?”

“Girls got good taste I’ll give her that” Silas sneered avoiding the question and released Kyle from his stare. While his mind had appeared almost absent in those moments it seemed he’d caught every word “I gotta get set up. Am thinkin’ Hector’ll be missin’ your company, you best get out of here” He sighed before pushing himself up to full height, just a few inches taller than Kyle but he knew how to show it.

“Set up?” Kyle tried to ignore the thump in his chest at Cobb’s obvious dismissal,

“Broadcasting tonight, got some new sounds from a friend of mine topside” He watched Cobb meander back to his desk, the glow from the desk lamp creating a glow about his head and shoulders.

“You broadcast here?” Kyle continued and thought he caught Cobb shake his head, amused. When Cobb had discovered Kyle’s regular attention to his radio show the man had practically oozed pride, he’d teased Kyle for a solid week that Cohen’s little apprentice would be sullied by the music he aired. Initially Kyle had avoided the broadcast after that feeling like Cobb might let slip a sly remark. As much as he tried he ended up tuning in after only a couple of days, Cobbs voice luring him back like a moth to light and much to his surprise the man remained as professional as ever, perhaps even played a few more piano pieces than before.

“Where else would I be, sugar?” Kyle’s eyes roamed the angled shoulders of the older man as Cobb remained turned away, rummaging through the same box again,

“I just thought, since what your doing is kind of-“ Kyle stuttered, “well very illegal, you’d be a bit more secretive about it” Although Ryan bleated on about mankind bettering themselves and standing out he didn’t really seem to like people doing it. Anything that was fed to _his_ people needed to be filtered through him first, Cohen must have pulled some serious strings to broadcast the things he did.

“Where would the fun in that be?” Cobb shifted rolling the cigarette against his tongue, floorboards creaking, and sighed, “Go on, get, I ain’t babysittin’ tonight”

“You’re an ass” Kyle growled, taking the hint. He caught the sneer Cobb sent him before escaping the suddenly constricting atmosphere of the back office. Hands in his pockets he shouldered the door to open it and huffed as he descended the stairs to the lower tiers. The older man made him nervous, made him mad and so confused. Stressed, he stopped half way to the Avenues and rubbed at his wrists, skin feeling itchy and his chest too tight.

Hector would be at the bar he had no doubt in his mind and usually he would head right there. Actually he’d already begun on auto pilot before he stopped the quickest route just around the corner.  He cursed under his breath at how displaced he felt, blaming Cobb immediately and then himself. Why hadn’t he just left after Liza?

He didn’t want to entertain his drunken friend, knowing he’d be the one to drag him home and tell him repeatedly he wasn’t a hack. Turning on his heel and barely missing a couple he headed back to his own apartment.

When he got to his door he stopped and panicked, hearing the familiar voice of Cobb through his door. He paused thoroughly confused before convincing himself Cobb couldn’t be in there. Upon entering he zeroed in on his small radio and released tension he had no idea he’d been saving. The older man’s voice carried across the static in a smooth even tone, resonating against the walls and hitting Kyle square in the chest. His annoyance from earlier was still there but the radio separating them almost made it feel like this man was different.

Kyle could listen to the earthy tones of Cobb’s voice without the niggling in the back of his mind that Cobb would mock him, treat him like a child as he so often did if he said something out of turn or showed too much of what he was thinking. Cobb seemed to pull the weaknesses out of him, could find them without even looking at him. However, this Cobb didn’t get a rise out of him, he could just listen. His chest tightened as the feelings pushed forward, brain torturing him with things he shouldn’t even imagine.

He flopped down onto his couch, a weary hand rubbing against the creases of his eyes. The Cobb on the radio was talking about events above, news that Kyle should have been interested in. But at that moment all he could focus on was the dry husk and drawl of the words spilling from his cheap radio. Cobb introduced the next song, something unusual, current but with a strange lilt to it which made it sound… exotic. Kyle never caught the name but didn’t care and imagined himself somewhere else, suddenly very tired. He drifted for a while, the songs that followed jerking him out of sleep as they rose in volume before allowing him to settle in the sombre moments. When Cobb’s voice returned Kyle’s chest fluttered. He could almost convince himself the man was there – close as always – talking about everything and nothing while Kyle dozed.

The next morning had Kyle regretting sleeping on the coach yet again, an ache in his neck and mouth dry. The radio was a quiet static again and he left it buzzing, the sound almost missed if he turned it off. He’d wobbled to his feet and decided on a shower, lukewarm water draining away the cobwebs from his head although not the ache. He found Liza’s thermos still on the counter, contents cooled but surprisingly not completely cold. He considered heating it over the stove but thought better of it and drank it at its tepid state. The taste was still amazing and the strength was like a slap to the face that he really needed.

He leant against the kitchen counter bare feel cold against the yellowing linoleum. Cold light filtered in through windows, semi closed blinds creating stripes across the far side walls. His watch told him it was morning, twenty past ten to be precise, but the lights kept a constant brightness to it only dimming in the red light or entertainment districts. Kyle sucked and bit at his bottom lip absently the lingering tastes of coffee keeping him distracted enough to worry the flesh until he noticed a sore heat creep into the skin. Hissing and giving his lip a final swipe he placed his cup down and pushed away from the counter.

Liza had said Cohen needed them later another chance to entertain the flamboyant artist. Cobb’s words bristled at his mind; Cohen’s penchant for flightiness with dancers had always been toxic at best. Would tonight be as successful as the last or would his mentor flip, unsatisfied once more and back to his roiling madness and desire to meet impossible standards. Would he take it out on Liza? Would he take it out on him? It wouldn’t be the first time. He shook his head as if releasing himself of the anxiety and moved to find his shoes, if he stayed in his apartment alone he’d only muse and stress himself out so much that he would be useless later on.

He decided to seek out Hector, feeling guilty about bailing on the guy even though neither of them had actually planned to see each other the night before. Hector would be happy to see him (as close as Hector got to happy anyway) have a headache and wouldn’t care; like always. He descended the metal stairs to the alleys quickly the iron rattling against his steps as he went. On his way to Hectors he passed his usual haunts, the areas where depending on how drunk the older man had got, he would crash. It was rare that Kyle wouldn’t head to their usual bar after an exhaustive lesson with Cohen, muscles sore and brain hollowed out. But the times he did he’d been fascinated at where Hector would end up, apparently giving up part way back to his home without Kyle to lean on.

This time however it seemed Hector had made it home, if the abandoned bottle outside his door was anything to go by. Kyle moved to knock on the dark wooden door of Hectors apartment, eyes glancing at an old woman shuffling past watching him suspiciously and covered head to toe in furs of many colours. Their glances met briefly, the woman’s eyes a brilliant blue that showed obvious signs of surgical enhancement and Kyle held back a shudder. She continued her scrutiny for a few moments more before reaching her door, she tutted quickly and slid herself away leaving Kyle alone again. It wasn’t the first time Kyle had been unnerved by one of his friend’s curious neighbours. Hector seemed to surround himself with odd people, whether he meant to or not.

Giving a gulp his knuckles met wood before Kyle realised the door was actually not shut. He sighed shifting his weight before heading into the dim lighting of Hectors home. The artists apartment was, full, all things considered that was the best way to describe it. Since Kyle had known him Hector had been a hoarder of sorts, of everything and nothing. The objects weren’t stacked or boxed and there wasn’t an insane amount of it, but it was there. Too many things grouped together to not consider them a brief attempt at collection before their owner flitted on to something else. Objects were gathered along with paintings that Hector had yet to sell or complete and materials that he’d either recently bought or lost interest in. The used and well-loved materials were all kept in his studio across the hall.

The apartment block Hector lived in appeared like a converted factory from the outside although it was less practical reusing of industry and more purpose built to satisfy the cultured and unique of the Rapture population. In fitting with its signature look large, black framed windows cast dirty white light into the living quarters of the space and trickled into the hallway that led to everything else. A collection of broken tinted glass strung up much like wind chimes hung against one of the windows and cast dulled bursts of colour across the cluttered living room. Kyle reached up to play with the sharp corners and watched the slices of colour merge and mutate. Where had Hector even got this?

He heard shuffling from the room across and waited for the older man to emerge rather than go barging in to god knows what.

“Hector?” Kyle called and heard a thump and loud muffled curse for his efforts,

“Kyle?!” Hectors voice sounded croaky and thick even through the walls, “The hell – How did-?” Kyle grinned at his friends attempts to form words, his accent slurring words together,

“You left your door unlocked” Kyle replied, fiddling some more with the glass before moving closer to the door frame that led into the hallway. It seemed like he and Cobb weren’t the only ones lax on their security, his mind briefly remembering Liza’s casual entry into both of their spaces.

“Fuck” Kyle heard another series of small crashes from his friend’s bedroom before the man emerged, dark hair sticking up at all angles and eyes red. He wobbled past Kyle, giving the younger man a pat on the shoulder before disappearing into the bathroom. Kyle stood awkwardly in the hallway before he heard the obvious sounds of Hector relieving himself and moved back into the living room. He picked up a book from the floor, the pages creased from where it fell and skimmed the lines not really reading just passing the time.

“Yah didn’t show” Hector made Kyle jump as he moved past him again, olive toned chest and back naked and trousers hung low against his waist and braces swaying as he moved. The older man made it over to the small fridge of his scant used kitchen and pulled out a glass bottle of amber liquid, opening it roughly and taking a quick swig. Most likely ginger ale Kyle thought, if the man wasn’t drinking then whatever else he drank had to at least resemble alcohol.

“No” Kyle replied, remembering Hector had spoken, “I got held up” he watched the artist lean against the fridge and take another gulp, smacking his lips as he released the bottle,

“Held up means you would come eventually” Hector stated flatly. He wasn’t mad; Kyle had known him long enough to see that – just curious – but Hector could be as bad as Cobb when he was curious. Maybe he preferred angry. But the still bleary look gracing his friend’s features showed that he wouldn’t be as eloquent as to respond with more than grunts and short sentences, “you bailed slick, good thing Finny showed otherwise I’d still be there”

“You don’t need to drink yourself unconscious every night Hector” Kyle placed the battered book on the nearby dresser and moved closer to the older man, rubbing at his neck, “How is Martin?” the gruff man of their group had been vacant from their almost nightly meetings for nearly a month now and Kyle always felt awkward going to see him on his own. He was socially awkward with most people but Martin just had an intense atmosphere about him that made Kyle feel he could burst at any time. He admired him for his work, for his ability to not let Cohen get under his skin but that didn’t mean he wasn’t intimidated by him.

                “He’s just dandy” Hector replied, wiping his mouth, “Got a new gig lined up with some dollar client. So guess who was buyin’ drinks last night? You missed out Fitzy” the older man winked and smirked as Kyle bristled at the pegged nickname.

                “Mister Cohen mentioned something about it couple’ days ago, he wasn’t happy” Kyle nibbled at his thumb distractedly as Hector moved to plop down into one of the wooden dining chairs, it creaked under his suddenly added weight,

“Course he’s not, he don’t share his shiny” the older man took another gulp from the bottle and motioned for Kyle to sit, “Finny was always his favourite… till you showed up” the younger man couldn’t help the drop in his stomach.

“It ain’t like that” Kyle replied, “I haven’t done-“

“Relax slick, you keep playing your pretty tunes. Personally I think Martin’s happy that Cohen’s off his ass, you just gotta watch yours y’hear?” Hector winked again giving another lopsided grin and reached over to grab an apple from the worn bowl at the tables centre. Kyle didn’t think he’d ever seen Hector eat fruit. Kyle had yet to experience Cohen’s attentions in _that_ way. However more recent lingering touches and badly hidden suggestions sent his way by the eccentric had left Kyle wondering when his time would come. It had happened with others and he knew it would happen with him. He just hoped he could avoid it for as long as possible.

“So, bailing, leavin’ me high and dry, yadda yadda” Hector took a bite out of the red fruit and rolled it in his wrist signalling for Kyle to fill in the blanks.

“Uh, yeah” The younger man leant an elbow against the heavy wooden table, “Cohen’s got me working on his new project. There’s a dancer, Liza, Cohen’s working with her. She wanted to see the Fort so showed her around” Hector munched half-heartedly on his apple, raising an eyebrow and shifting to lean back as Kyle mentioned the girl. Hector the self-proclaimed ladies’ man of the group, Kyle was waiting for the older man to suggest a meet up. He imagined Liza would find it incredibly entertaining, if the scene at the casino was anything to go by.   

“This dame a kid or has she just lived under a rock her entire life?” Hector replied, covering his bases before leaping in, Kyle thought. At least he had the decency to leave underage girls well alone, “Everyone and their mother have wandered into the Fort at some point, it’s not like you can avoid it either”

“She’s from The Birdcage” Kyle waited for the name to sink in and Hector paused mid bite giving Kyle a wide eyed look,

“No shit, how are you alive?” The look on his friends face was priceless and Kyle snorted,

“They’re not monsters Hector” the older man had begun twitching his leg nervously, heel bouncing off the tiles slightly,

“They may as well be you remember what I told you right?” Kyle nodded and Hector wiped at his mouth before standing, chucking the mangled apple core into the waste bin, “and you say Cohen’s using her in his performances?”

“Not yet, maybe though he likes her I think” Hector paced, fidgeted and was obviously uncomfortable. Kyle wanted to know why. There was no doubt in his mind Hector had been to the Birdcage before, whatever happened there definitely left its mark. Kyle held back a snicker at Hectors discomfort the man usually so collected when around women.

“Old Kook’s finally lost it” Hector sighed and stopped,

“The girl, she blonde?” the question came out of the blue and Kyle blinked before shaking his head and Hector nodded to himself, looking almost relieved.

They made idle talk after that, it was like the older man was purposefully trying to avoid talking about Liza. Hector moved on to mention an exhibition he’d been hounding Cohen about; the eccentric’s avoidance of the matter becoming clear now with the addition of another project. It didn’t help Hector’s annoyance but at least he could vent. With the older man’s hangover gradually petering out he showed Kyle some of the partially completed works in his studio and asked Kyle to play for him one day to help get some of the visuals right. Kyle wasn’t quite sure he understood but he was willing to help. Hector became a shining star when he worked on something new.

Kyle loved Hectors studio, never one to possess any form of artistic ability the space to him was like another world. Smells of oil and turpentine, the floor littered with a history of frantic movement all laid out in mismatched colours. The lighting was better in this space although currently Hector had an old bedsheet draped across the windows. He’d been working with darker subjects recently, needing the shadows and sepia glow of an oil lamp to depict the right form. Those same dark lines he’d seen in Cohen’s work and he wondered if maybe one had inspired the other, although neither would ever divulge that bit of information.

He told Kyle about a girl he met last night, another one that couldn’t have been more perfect. He was going to paint her, he’d said, but Kyle knew for a fact that Hector couldn’t remember for the life of him what she looked like. Hector, albeit warily, asked about Liza and although it was nothing to probing Kyle could tell Hector wanted to know more than he asked. He doubted he’d even be able to answer some of those unspoken questions. Kyle felt the pull of the theatre the longer he idled; there were some new sheet music he wanted to test out. A particular piece sung out to Kyle, he could imagine Liza dancing to it. Hector seemed to notice the absentness and patted his friend on the back,

“If you’re headin’ to Cohen’s later can you mention the gallery? He’s had that work up in there a damn month and people are muttering” Hector had lit a cigarette and sucked on it greedily, “I know he won’t give a shit but I do” Kyle nodded, not knowing how much of an impact his words would make but it was good to feel that Hector had faith in him.

“Oh and if you see Cobb tell ‘im he owes me cigarettes” He rattled the half empty pack he currently kept in his pocket, “Sneaky bastard lifted mine the other night I’m sure of it”. Kyle nodded quickly but knew for a fact he wouldn’t, he wanted to keep as much distance as possible between himself and Cobb for now.


End file.
